MERRY 22

But looking back, that was a huge delusion. Ethan Reed isn’t human. He’s a cold-blooded traitor.

Stalker 

Sleep well.

I was furious at him for sending a message as if nothing had happened. After dropping me off a cliff with a casual remark, he acted like an innocent man.

“Jerk.”

In my head, I was still the version of myself who had been all excited while talking to the man next door. I went to bed reminding my foolish self of the current Ethan Reed. I would try my best not to think of you, even if it meant tossing and turning all night. Though, trying not to think of someone is basically thinking about them anyway.

Damn it. A hellishly long night was waiting for me.

∞ ∞ ∞

How long has it been since I’ve had dark circles like this? My face looked so haggard that even my eyelashes seemed to droop without any strength. I glared at my reflection in the elevator mirror before stepping out. The clear sky stepped up to try and drive away my fatigue, but it didn’t have much of an effect. I forced my jaw tight to hold it together, but as soon as I got into the car, I let out a massive yawn.

As it happened, I hadn’t been able to sleep well since that day. Since I knew exactly who the culprit was, the solution felt even more remote and bleak. Ethan Reed would never move according to my wishes.

He existed as a harmful presence inside my brain. Every time he popped into my head, I’d catch myself scowling and my mood would sour, so keeping my distance was the best move. Driving away the threat he posed, I started the engine.

The meeting spot wasn’t far. Considering New York’s brutal traffic, it’s usually better to walk short distances, but I didn’t have a choice. It was because a stalker who would just follow me on foot if I walked was too much pressure. It was better to have the distance provided by a car.

I kept my eyes from glancing at the side mirror and pulled out. I filled the car with sophisticated jazz, but I had to turn it down soon after. Instead, Meg Able rattled on excitedly over the phone.

― It’s not like you don’t know Tamara White, and for her to even say she’ll accommodate your schedule… yet you turn it down. You’re probably the only model who shies away from getting famous, Somerset.

“I guess I’m just special.”

― Somerset. Ms. Able was probably being sarcastic.

Ben cut in with a voice that was a whisper but not exactly quiet. We were on a three-way call at the request of Able, who hated meeting him in person. In other words, Ben knew Able could hear everything he said. This side of him was part of why Able found him so uncomfortable.

― Somerset was being sarcastic back at me, too.

― Oh, Ms. Able. You’ve got it wrong. The Somerset I know isn’t the type of person to meanly attack others.

― So you’re saying I’m the type to meanly attack… no, never mind. Forget it. The priority right now is persuading Somerset.

If she hadn’t been talking to Ben, Able would have raised her voice. However, she chose to rein herself in rather than engage with him for long and got straight to the point.

― Somerset. Seriously, reconsider. Do you know how many people are dying to work with Tamara? There’s a line out the door.

Ben, who was in agreement with Able, chimed in.

― It would be a huge stroke of luck for both Somerset and Tamara to work together. The synergy would be incredible.

When I stayed quiet, Able grew anxious. And for good reason—it was Tamara White, who had recently climbed to stardom thanks to her friendship with a global pop star. Considering the influence of the woman currently known as the “hottest celebrity,” Able pressured me with specific figures, saying the music video views would easily surpass hundreds of millions.

― You’re a top model now, but do you think that lasts forever? It can’t. We’re in an era where influencers rule the fashion world. You have to go with the flow. The more famous you are, the more recognition you get.

She made a fair point. It just didn’t interest me.

“Able, you know. It’s no use talking to me like that.”

Able mentioned a movie title and sighed. Even when a blockbuster film I had been invited to audition for became a huge hit, I hadn’t felt any regret. It was because I had never wanted the wealth or fame the lead actor gained. On the other hand, Able had felt victimized, as if I had been robbed of something that should have been mine.

― Mr. Richardson. It’s a manager’s virtue to push their model so they can grow.

Feeling that she could no longer get through to me, she put the pressure on Ben. Of course, Ben wasn’t a pushover.

― Somerset. Since Ms. Able put it that way, what should I do? Should I start pushing you?

He asked me, lowering his voice as if whispering in my ear. He was once again using the fact that Able could hear him. Playing along with his blatant tactic, I replied softly.

“No. Ben, you’re my manager, so you just need to follow the virtues I want.”

― Understood.

Ben was the type to avoid any words or actions that went against my wishes as his employer. He immediately dropped the act of trying to persuade me alongside Able and spoke to her.

― Ms. Able, it seems Somerset’s opinion is different. Since I feel the same as you, I’m quite disappointed. It would have been great for Somerset to appear in Tamara White’s music video, but there’s nothing we can do.

With this, I expected Able’s “Benjamin Richardson avoidance syndrome” to continue for a while.

― Hey! Are you forgetting that I’m listen… no, forget it.

She started to raise her voice, then hesitated and cut herself off awkwardly. She was probably turning red with rage on the other side of the line. Regardless, Ben gave submissive replies like “Yes, yes, I see,” and then replied pleasantly, “Just let me know when you’re in the mood for it.”

In the end, Able left me with a note to talk later and hung up first.

― Ms. Able seems like such a nice person.

Ben said idly—the kind of thing that would make Able’s blood boil if she heard it—and said his goodbyes.

― Well then, see you at the next schedule.

“Take care, Ben. Have a good one.”

After ending the call, I played the jazz again. The exquisite push and pull of the notes tempted my ears.

“Mmm.”

I drove while savoring the rhythm like I was tasting something delicious. All while ignoring the black sedan that was diligently following me from a set distance.

Arriving at the meeting spot, I parked the car, grabbed my sunglasses and jacket, and got out. I was excited about the idea of spending a dull weekend pleasantly. Soon, I spotted a round, small, cute back of a head and carefully quieted my footsteps.

“Hi.”

Noah turned around with eyes wide, as if he hadn’t noticed me approaching. His big eyes got even bigger, making me worry they might fall out. I sat down across from him, hooked my sunglasses on the bridge of my nose, and gave him a wink.

“Were you doing something bad behind my back? You look so startled.”

“No, nothing like that.”

“I know. It was a joke, you don’t have to deny it so seriously.”

“I think I finally tricked you. I was pretending to deny it seriously.”

“You got me there.”

Noah Davis was Liam’s former roommate, a friend I had naturally gotten to know by frequenting Liam’s place as if it were my own.

Even though Noah had walked into the room while I was having sex with Liam—not exactly a great first impression—it didn’t cause any problems in building a friendship. I held no grudges, and Noah, unlike those who just wrote me off as an easy or lewd person, made an effort to break his own prejudices.

Even though he was older than me, Noah had a baby face that made him look like a teenager; he had an innocent streak and a naturally kind heart to match. With his warm personality and lack of pretense, he didn’t know how to doubt others, yet he had somehow managed to survive in this harsh city of New York without ever being scammed.

Anyway, I felt a strong human liking for this untainted, boyish friend. He wasn’t someone I met through work, and we hadn’t had sex, but that was why I had asked for his number first and met up with him from time to time.

“Liam’s not here yet?”

“He said he’ll be a little late. The traffic seems to be heavy.”

“It really was. Let’s order first. What do you want? My treat. Order whatever you want.”

After looking at the menu, we called the waiter. Noah ordered onion soup and a sandwich with handmade ham, while I ordered French toast.

“Is the seat okay? The waiter said this was a good spot, so I sat here.”